Except … no one has said anything about murder. And I might be the only person in the world who thinks that. Me, with the over-the-top imagination.
Me, who’s on the same list and has had three brushes with death in less than a week.
“What’s the matter?” Mom asks, studying my expression.
“My friend is dead,” I say, hoping the explanation staves off more questions I do not want to answer.
“You just said you barely knew her.”
“I mean my classmate. We’re like friends. I was just talking to her at a party on—”
“When were you at a party?” she demands, a spark in her gray eyes.
Oh, crap, crap, crap. Why did I speak without thinking? Next thing, I’ll be confessing about the list. And the fact that Olivia and Chloe were first and second … and I’m fifth.
“When?”
I swallow, not a great liar under the best of circumstances. “Molly and I went to a party last night.”
“When you slept over?” She leans closer, all that nervous energy directed to one place, one person … the one child she has left.
“It was no big deal, Mom, I—”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice rises.
If someone stuck a camera into the Summerall house and watched this fight, they’d figure it was a typical rebellious teenager who lies about what she does and the demanding, distrusting parent who wants control.
But that’s not what’s going on at all.
I can go two ways here: fight and stomp out of the room, like I did on Thursday night when I wrecked my car, or a gentle, calming talk down from the ledge—that usually works.
But tonight? All bets are off.
“Mom, I swear it was not a big deal. Molly got invited to some boy’s house and everyone was just sitting around talking about Olivia.…”
Another stupid mistake, reminding her of the other girl who died. She searches my face, as if she can find the crack in my armor. God knows it wouldn’t take much. I feel so fragile I could break down right there in front of her.
Any other mom, any other life, and I would. I’d tell her about the close calls and the nurse and the truck and the low-grade, inexplicable fear that everything has just taken a turn for the worse.
But she’d fall over dead with worry right in front of me. And, honestly, I can’t have another death in the family on my conscience.
“Mom.” I stand up and reach for her shoulders; she’s been shorter than me for over a year, and that alone makes me a tad protective of her. “I’m sixteen. You can trust me. I don’t drink.” Except that tiny sip of vodka with my list sisters—the list with two dead members. “I don’t mess around with boys.” Except I did make out with Josh Collier. “And I don’t lie to you.”
Except about everything tonight.
Her features soften a little. “I am not the least bit concerned about any of those things,” she says.
“You don’t have anything to worry about.” More lies.
“I have everything to worry about.” She manages a sad smile. “That’s what I do.”
I pull her closer, grateful this conversation, which usually makes me ache with suffocation, isn’t turning that way tonight. Probably because this time … she might be right.
I squeeze her shoulders and give her a rare hug. “I have to be normal,” I say, as much to myself as to her. “I cannot live in fear because this happened.”
I feel her nod in agreement and turn my head to look at the Facebook screen, my eyes falling on the latest post in all caps.
CHLOE DIED OF ANAPHYLACTIC SHOCK!!!
I inch Mom away to read the rest, not in caps. “She ate something with peanuts in it,” I say as we both turn to the computer.
“Was she allergic?” Mom asks.
I can see Chloe’s face at the party, the grape vodka in her hand. Thank God I’m allergic to peanuts and not grapes.
“I think so.”
Mom shakes her head. “At her age, with a potentially fatal allergy? She should know not to eat something unless she’s sure of what’s in it.”
Yes, she should. I dig for relief. This was a real accident, unless …
Unless someone forced her to eat food that would kill her. Then it wouldn’t be an accident … it would only look like one.
CHAPTER XVI
No surprise, Vienna High School is at a virtual standstill on Monday morning. When we left on Friday, Olivia Thayne and Chloe Batista were alive. Now, in two separate, awful, fatal